[Week 1.1]

Claire woke with a groan.

It was only 9am on a Sunday, but according to a text from Neha she was supposed to be Northside for some individual conversations by 11:30. A 6am follow up corrected that they would do something called “ballet and etiquette” instead. After a night of sleep it all sounded too crazy.

She glanced at the white choker/collar lying on her nightstand.

She could just… not put it on?

Of course, some amount of “we’ll run your life from now on” was typical for a sorority. And Claire had been expecting it! But now she had a literal fucking collar. That definitely wasn’t on any of the online “what to expect from being a new member” guides.

But something about last night had felt so incredibly right too. Sitting at Arie’s feet, when Arie had started to pet her and play with her hair–Claire shivered just remembering it. She’d almost drifted off, had half expected to get chastised by Miriam, but the one time she looked over she got a rare smile instead.

Even as she got ready for another probably difficult day in the house on Northside, she couldn’t sort out her feelings. The rules were dumb. She didn’t–couldn’t–let someone control her life like that. And letting someone decide if you’re even allowed to sit on furniture? Never mind what else they might add later? It was shameful.

Yet sitting at Arie’s feet had felt so right.

She could escape the rules by quitting, but then she wouldn’t be in a sorority, probably ever, and evenings like last night would never happen again. And she’d be a failure and her mom would be right.

She checked her phone, and realized she was running late. Fuck.

She hurried through her most basic makeup routine, ignored the mistake in her eyeliner, threw on what she hoped would be an acceptable top–fuck ballet probably required movement, right? Claire switched to something more flexible, then ran out the door.

One sprint across campus later and she arrived, out of breath and sweating, at 11:35.

Fuck fuck fuck.

Her worst fears briefly flashed through her mind. The door being locked. Getting publicly yelled at. Getting kicked out. A part of her wanted to just turn and run right now. She froze, half turned around, then shook her entire body and knocked on the door. She wouldn’t be so weak.

Allyson opened the door almost the second Claire’s knuckles made contact. The freshman tried to rush past her, to take off her shoes and rush into the living room, but an arm crossed her path and she got pulled into a hug. A hand pushed her head into the crook of the older sister’s neck.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, calm down,” Allyson whispered. “You’re in a bit of trouble, yes, but no one is going to hurt you.”

Claire blinked in confusion.

“You’re going to be okay,” the other girl continued, “we still care about you, it’s just a minor correction, and we’re going to help you improve.”

Without even meaning to, Claire felt herself relax–which made the experience almost more disorienting. She took a deep breath.

“Take off your shoes.” Allyson released her from the hug. “Everyone else is upstairs already, first room on the right. And tell Miriam that Allyson is making her some chai tea to apologize, first thing when you get in please.”

Claire took off her shoes and hurried up the stairs, then went into the first door on the right. Time to learn what “ballet and ettiquette” was.

The first thing she noticed when she entered was that she was in a dance studio. Large mirrors lined two walls perpendicular to large, airy, floor to ceiling windows. The midday sun brushed the tan hardwood floors, and someone had tilted one of the windows open to let in a breeze from the garden. The mirrored wall farthest from the door had ballet barre’s mounted on in. Claire felt a moment of longing for the childhood dance classes her mom had forced her to quit.

The second thing she noticed was Miriam, standing at the front of the room, looking absolutely furious. The pledge master opened her mouth–

“Allyson said she’s making you tea.” Claire beat her to it. “A chai tea? I think? As an apology?”

Miriam’s expression softened, and the expected outburst never came.

“Alright,” she said instead, “I’ll have to thank Allyson later.”

She looked back at the rest of the group. “Claire, we’ll talk about this later. For now, please join your fellow future servants. We were just talking about what ‘ballet and ettiquette’ means here.”

Claire slinked to the far wall. Luna, Persephone, and Becca already stood in a line, waiting for instructions. She tried to copy their position, then realized they were all barefoot. She hurried her own socks off as well.

As she threw them into a corner, Miriam continued. “We mostly call it ballet because we teach it in a ballet studio. Someone a long time ago maybe thought it was funny. What we actually care about is teaching you movement and grace. You’ve seen the way servants like Allyson and Elya move. You’re learning that as well.”

Persephone raised her hand to ask a question, but Claire kept talking. “To answer Perse’s question, yes minders will learn something very similar—I didn’t move like this before Delta Sig either. The skills do cross apply—so respect the effort that they’re going through, and know that they can and will eventually correct you.”

Miriam stepped to the corner and picked up a cane out of a basket. It was long and thin and maybe made of bamboo. “This is a little more precise than the riding crop I used yesterday,” she said, “I’ll be gentle with it at first. I’ll be gentle if I feel you’re making an effort. If you need motivation, I won’t be.”

As Miriam moved back to the center, Allyson walked in carrying a large cardboard box. She dumped it next to Miriam, then took out a stack of clothes.

Miriam pointed at her assistant with the cane. “There’s a sports bra and biking shorts in here for each of you.”

Allyson began handing a bundle to each of them. The fabric was soft, with the gentle stretch so often found in high quality athletic clothing. Persephone and Becca both looked impressed as well. Luna did not.

“Luna, I know you want to change outside,” Miriam said, “but no one’s removing their underwear today, so you get to face towards the window wall where no one will see your front.”

Luna glowed like a neon sign, the emotional color a combination of embarrassment and distress. When Allyson got to the end of the line she handed Luna the bundle but stuck around. As Luna faced the window the senior servant placed a gentle hand on her back and blocked the room with her body, giving her some added privacy.

Claire ignored the spectacle and quickly swapped outfits. The bicycle shorts and sports bra were exactly her size and even had her name and Delta Sigma branding on them. If that wasn’t creepy enough, that they had made these in just about 48 hours over a weekend definitely was.

Miriam didn’t give her long to think about it. “Alright everybody, first thing we’re going to work on is posture.”

She walked over to Luna and Becca standing on the left, and immediately tapped Becca’s shoulder. “Becca, there’s ways to look small and meek without slouching, especially at your size.” She tapped Luna as well. “Luna, slouching will not make you Becca’s size.”

Becca looked embarrassed, but Luna looked mortified.

Miriam moved so fast and suddenly it took Claire’s brain a moment to catch up. The minder stepped into Luna’s personal space, bodies almost touching. She grabbed the nape of Luna’s neck with her left hand and pulled her forcefully down, getting Luna’s head to her own height and leaning it against her shoulder. Meanwhile, her right hand did an elegant twirl with the cane until it was held behind her arm just by three fingers. This freed her palm, which she used to gently stroke Luna’s back. The sides of their face touched, and Luna, despite her distress, seemed to melt into the touch.

“You’re pretty as you are,” Miriam whispered forcefully, “and will get even prettier with time. People way taller than you have looked far meeker than Becca. You both are going to grow so much. And you are going to look so so graceful and pretty doing it.”

“Take a deep breath for me.” She let go of Luna’s neck and backed up a step. Luna swayed on her feet for a moment. Miriam’s gaze swept the room. “All of you are going to be very different in 4 months. And that starts with cutting bad habits.”

Miriam narrowed her attention again. Persephone got a simpler, quicker correction for standing more on her left foot than her right. It was just a tap on her calf, and she bowed her head respectfully to Miriam before making the adjustment.

Claire didn’t understand how she did it so easily.

But then Miriam approached Claire, and Claire felt the pang of fear again. This was both simple, but it was also giving in, and that–

Miriam’s somewhat more forceful tap to her upper back had Clair instantly straighten her spine, and the pain stopped her thoughts. This was harder than the others had been hit, but Miriam didn’t give her space to worry. The pain was too distracting.

A hand touched her shoulder. Miriam, grounding her, moving her body. “Same thing for you, hunching will not make you invisible.” A hand on her lower back, pushing her back straight. Forceful, but not the cane. “You’re part of Delta Sigma now, and you will be proud of it.”

Something bubbled up deep inside Claire, and she reacted on instinct.

It came out as a whisper. “Yes ma’am.”

“Good girl, I’ve got you.” Miriam’s response inflamed the confusing thing deep inside her gut. Somehow she felt calmer all the same. Miriam stepped back.

Claire shivered, but kept herself upright. She felt raw, and she wasn’t even sure why she’d spoken the words. But she understood now how Luna and Becca and maybe even Persephone had felt under Miriam’s gaze–like they were the only person in the room, swamped away by an ocean wave. Like Miriam was staring right into her soul, and there was nothing she could hide.

Luckily the attention vanished again just as quickly, as Miriam walked back to the front. The minder described proper posture on Allyson, then sent the servant off to do other tasks around the house.

They drilled posture after that. From there, they practiced walking. Miriam tapped, then nudged, then beat until they could all do what Miriam called “a half decent basic walk.”

Persephone got it first, at ease with both what was asked for them and Miriam’s methods for achieving it. Becca and Luna continued to struggle with trying to hunch their shoulders, while Claire just felt uncomfortable–something inside her was screaming, while something else told her to give into Miriam and never look back. The conflict showed in her movements, and she started getting more and more taps.

Claire also felt Miriam’s growing attention. And it made everything worse. It was subtle, but every glance started to feel like shame, every incidental touch started to feel like an encroachment.

When Claire was the last one still struggling, she felt Miriam decide to act. When Miriam grabbed her by the arm, her breath froze. She felt her own impending doom.

“Everyone else, practice standing posture, far wall. I want you to correct each other. Everything wrong with one of you when I come back will result in punishment for the other two. Claire, come with me for a moment.”

She didn’t quite lead Claire out the door, but instead to the little entry hallway between the door and the ballet room proper.

“First, how do you feel about touch?” Miriam asked. “We have you fill out surveys later, but I need that answer right now.”

Claire was almost completely frozen. “Fine? I guess?” She squeezed out, “I’m not sure I understand the question.”

Miriam nodded. “Okay, so no major trauma I’m going to stumble on by giving you a hug?”

Claire shook her head, and before she could even open her mouth, Miriam had grabbed her and pulled her in to a tight embrace. Claire felt herself tense, then relax a little.

Miriam spoke calmly but quietly. “Tell me what you’re feeling right now.”

Claire felt emotions bubble up, but she pushed them down and controlled herself.

“I’m… not sure?” She answered.

Miriam said nothing for a moment.

“Your whole body is tense, more than I think you even realize,” she said, “and you’ve been resisting me all day.”

Claire’s uncertainty transformed to confusion.

“Of course I’d feel that way?” she asked.

Miriam shook her head. “Look at the rest, how they let themselves be lead.”

Claire felt herself tense again. Something screaming. Deep breath, calm down.

“I just… I can’t do that.” She searched for the right words. “It’s wrong.”

Miriam didn’t say anything for a moment. To Claire, the minder’s careful consideration was almost audible, the tik-tok of a dangerous clock. “There’s nothing I can do for this right now,” she eventually said, “but immediately when this lesson ends, you’re going to see someone who can give you more advice.”

She pulled away and looked Claire in the eyes. They were almost the same height, with Claire being maybe an inch shorter.

“For now, I’d like you to just go along with things. You don’t have to mean it in your heart, just pretend. Can you do that?” She asked Claire gently.

Claire nodded her head. Miriam smiled. “What do we say?”

Claire felt something ease up, and even managed to smile back. “Yes miss.”

It all felt lighter somehow, and the rest of posture instruction passed without incident. They did more walking, then sitting, then more walking.

When they finished, they each had a few welts, but not nearly as many as they’d had corrections. Miriam had kept to her word.

Etiquette opened with a simple explanation from Miriam.

“Posture is about how you hold yourself by default—in the normal world. Etiquette is about how you change that and why.”

They hadn’t dressed, and Miriam still held the cane like it was an extension of her hand.

“The first thing we’re going to start with,” she began, “is kneeling.”

“Which, speaking of…” She looked at the door. “Welcome back Allyson.”

Allyson walked in as if floating on air, her torso perfectly steady and the teacup she held with two hands. It moved so gracefully it might as well have been floating. She sank to her knees in front of Miriam, the tea cup still perfectly level, and spoke only three words.

“Your chai, miss. I apologize for earlier.”

Miriam accepted the tea without a word, and then ignored Allyson completely as she turned back to the assembled future Allysons. The actual Allyson didn’t move at all, and just kept her head down, hands resting back on her thighs. There was something abject about it, the way Allyson almost groveled just by kneeling.

The exchange reached deep into Claire–touched something raw and not understood. She recoiled in horror.

It seemed so unequal, so unfair. Allyson, who had held and supported Claire in her moment of panic earlier, who had looked so dignified yesterday—both while standing against the wall in silent support, and while sharing the sorority’s history—now reduced to this.

Claire had been told to promise the tea on her behalf. Was this humiliation Claire’s punishment for being late, carried by Allyson? Or had Allyson made Claire promise it for some other favor, maybe to defer the punishment? She was certain Miriam was about to beat her when she’d forwarded the message, and then she hadn’t.

Claire almost crumpled under the guilt, but pulled herself together. She promised herself she wouldn’t let herself keep being pushed around. She took half a step forward…

…and watched Miriam’s demeanor shift completely. The minder seemed to get bigger, looming over Claire without ever moving from her spot.

“And what do you think you’re doing, little girl?” Miriam asked. The question was laced with dark promise. If Miriam’s attention had felt like a spotlight before, now it felt like a targeting laser.

Claire felt the adrenaline rush through her. “You don’t have to treat her like–“

The cane struck Claire before she could finish the sentence. It didn’t look like Miriam used a lot of effort, but the cane still left a sharp burning line, almost like a cut. Claire barely suppressed a noise. Her leg jerked anyway, and her whole body lurched to the right. She almost lost her balance.

Before she could recover, Miriam struck her left leg with a backhanded stroke. This one was harder, and this time she yelped. As her leg twitched a foot hooked her behind the knee and a hand pushed down on her shoulders. Claire found herself forced to the ground.

The minder whispered, just for her to hear. “You won’t understand yet, but this is a mercy.” A hand stroked her hair, and Claire’s brain skipped a beat.

The freshman curled further in on herself, paralyzed, but Miriam just looked up and talked to the room. “Allyson, grab Claire here and bring her to Jacqueline. Tell her she’ll need Kacie. And inform her of the incident this morning and let her handle it.”

Through watery eyes Claire saw Allyson rise from her kneel. The servant moved with perfect calm, as if a future servant getting abused wasn’t in any way unusual. “Yes miss.”

Claire felt everything go a little bit numb as hands under her armpits pulled her up. Allison was guiding her out of the room. They were walking, the opposite direction of the staircase. They stopped somewhere, before a closed door.

Allyson pulled her into a long hug. The older girl didn’t say anything. She let Claire sink into the touch and Claire tried to ground herself amidst the confusion.

Allyson took her a few rooms down, though Claire wasn’t exactly sure how many, then dragged her through a door and dropped her on a couch. Claire curled up in the corner and tried to disappear. Unfortunately it didn’t work, and moments later someone else entered the room.

She was tall, with sharp cheekbones and long black hair that made it most of the way down her back. Her eyes reflected a kindness and openness that made some part of Claire immediately open up. She wanted her approval. Her clothes bordered on professional, with a pencil skirt and stockings. A pair of kitten shaped slippers mellowed out the outfit, and gave the impression of an inside joke that everybody was immediately in on. Her entire presence radiated strength and calm.

She crouched in front of Claire, lowering herself gracefully to Claire’s height. “Hello Claire. My name is Jacqueline. I’m here to help you. Do you mind if I join you on your couch?”

Claire shook her head. “No–I mean, it’s fine if you do.” Despite the kindness, Claire continued to clutch her legs. She felt… Scared. Unsafe. Confused. Distant.

Jacqueline gently placed a palm on Claire’s knee. Not quite forceful, but suggesting strength.

“I understand that was probably really scary for you.” Jacqueline waited for Claire’s nod before she continued. “I imagine there was probably some kind of deep feeling of…” she hesitated for a moment, “injustice–maybe?–that compelled that.” Claire nodded again, and Jacqueline brushed a hand down Claire’s leg as she kept talking.

“Understand that Miriam is not mad at you–was not mad at you–she’s just asserting her authority. Normally she would punish you and then the two of you would reconnect, and you would know your place better.” Claire felt herself tensing up, and Jacqueline gently tapped her leg.

“But I think,” Jacqueline continued, “for reasons I’m quickly coming to understand, she didn’t think that would work.”

That made no sense to Claire, and somehow Jacqueline picked up on that.

“Claire, if Miriam had publicly punished you for stepping in between her and Allyson, would you be more or less curled into a ball right now?” she asked.

Claire felt a flash of rage. “She– she absolutely did punish me!” The injustice of it all. “She humiliated me.” It was unbearable. “She violated me.” Suddenly she was crying.

Claire dug her head deeper into her knees, tried to close up the shell again, but Jacqueline just gave an affectionate sigh. “Did she make you stand, palms on the wall, legs slightly past shoulder width apart, then had you recite exactly what you did wrong, followed by somewhere between 5 and 50 strikes of the cane, before giving you forgiveness and then resuming the lesson?”

“No….” Claire whispered into her legs. “But that sounds unbearable.”

“And I think you’re actually right there. I think today you couldn’t have borne it. And so did Miriam when she decided to send you here instead.” There was a moment’s pause before Jacqueline spoke again. “Right now, the key difference between you and the rest of the gals wearing the white chokers is, while they fear the cane, they care about Miriam’s approval more. You, on the other hand, fear caring at all.”

Claire didn’t understand.

“Here, may I hold you? We usually have you fill out a form about this sort of thing, but you were supposed to do that with me in… about half an hour.”

Claire just nodded. She really just wanted to be alone, maybe under her bed, but that was dumb. Jacqueline touching her couldn’t make things worse now.

The arms that enveloped her felt cold and distant and Claire couldn’t trust them. But they were there.

“Claire, what do you know about dominance and submission?”

That was an easy question. “Not very much.” There was momentary spike of emotion, and some lingering bitterness on Claire’s insides came out. “Isn’t dominance something between dogs?”

Jacquline just chuckled and ran a hand down Claire’s side. “Dominance and submission, or D/s, is the practice of giving and receiving power over others. It’s a more explicit, intentional version of something all humans naturally do. Think about that friend group that always has that one friend deciding what the group does, or the study group where one person naturally takes charge of organizing.

“It’s also the practice our little organization is built on.”

Claire stayed clenched. Of course people would seek power over others. She’d expected some of this, in the form of hazing. But to make the hazing worse on purpose…

Jacqueline seemed to sense her confusion. Or maybe she’d just had this conversation before.

“Yes humans have a pretty negative history with seeking and obtaining power,” she admitted. “What we do is give and receive more intensely, but learn to act more precisely and thoughtfully. People with certain inclinations and histories find that more comforting than ‘normal’ society.”

That still made absolutely no sense. She meant to ask a question, but it came out sharp and hurt instead. “How is what Miriam did supposed to be comforting?”

“I’m maybe not the right person to answer that.” She raised her voice for a moment. “Come in please, Kacie.”

Kacie… looked like a cheerleader. She radiated optimistic California energy, and looked like she dragged her friend group hiking on the weekends. Her dirty-blond waves made her the closest to a typical sorority girl of anyone Claire had met in Delta Sigma. The only thing off about her was a recent cut running back on her left cheek, like someone had rushed her with a knife or barely missed her with an arrow. She still strode through the room like a prom queen.

And then Kacie kneeled, like it was the most natural thing in the world, at their feet–just like Allyson with Miriam. She gently placed her palm on Claire’s leg, then rested her head carefully, but confidently, on Jacqueline’s thigh.

Jacqueline drew Claire’s attention back to her. “This is Kacie. She’s the VP of Delta Sigma, and with our president carries responsibility for everything that happens in our organization. She’s also–” Jacqueline’s finger moved smoothly down Kacie’s face to hook a finger under her black collar, and Kacie leant into the touch. “–mine.”

“Hello Claire!” Kacie gave her a small smile, which Claire didn’t return. The tears had stopped, but she still felt paralyzed and everything was still so far away. And everything about this felt suspicious.

Jacqueline’s hand moved back up to pet Kacie’s hair. “Claire was just asking how getting pushed around and punished by Miriam can be comforting.”

Kacie made a thoughtful sound before talking. “Well, first I’d say it’s comforting on the whole, not always in the moment.” She drummed her fingers on Claire’s leg. “I messed up something important between me and Jacky last spring, and I got punished in front of the whole house. It was horrible. But I felt so much better afterwards–the guilt would have eaten me up–and I feel amazing every day waking up knowing I belong to Miss.”

The guilt thing made sense, Claire always felt horrible if she so much as misspoke to a friend. But still–

“I think it’s worth taking a step back,” Jacqueline interrupted, “to why submitting to me is comfortable in the first place.”

Kacie nodded her head. “Yes miss, that’s fair.”

She brushed Claire’s leg. “You’re going to find your own reasons for this, but for me I get peace and security from placing myself in Jacky’s hands. It lets me shut off the anxious parts of my brain and gives me someone to focus myself on. That lets me be a beter version of me.”

Jacqueline exerted gentle pressure on Claire’s knees as she picked up the conversation again.

“I think it’s important for you to understand that you’re not lesser or weak for submitting, or for being a servant,” she said. “In fact, I think that’s the most important thing for you to understand. I invited Kacie here because she’s a servant, just like you will be. But she’s also the second most powerful person in our house, in more ways than one.”

Claire tried to piece that together in her mind, even as Jacqueline ran another hand down the inside of her leg. Kacie, kneeling and seemingly perfectly harmless. Vulnerable even. Somehow still powerful.

“That–” She felt more relaxed, but her voice was hoarse from crying, so she coughed once, twice before continuing. “–that makes no sense at all.”

Kacie nodded. “I get the confusion.” She thought for a moment. “Okay, so Neha is submissive to pretty much everybody. Like, she runs calendars and logistics for pretty much everybody in the house, always uses miss, even with the pledges. But she also exerts power over the pledges in service to the house.”

“It’s a dance,” Jacqueline explained, “you wouldn’t say a lead in ballroom is more important or better than the follow, and a lead in ballroom that doesn’t listen to and work with their follow would be terrible at the sport. We just… live our entire lives this way. And you wouldn’t be here if we didn’t think that also made sense for you.”

The ball of hurt inside Claire had another question in response. “Why does it seem to be so easy for everyone else then?”

“First, I don’t think it’s easy for everybody,” Jacqueline replied, “you’re just struggling first and most visibly. Second, I think you come from a past where power was used to hurt, where vulnerability to power meant you weren’t safe. And maybe it’s because of that that you’re drawn to it. Because even this interaction is steeped in power, and look at how well you responded.”

Claire saw Jacqueline smile and went instinctively to full alertness.

In a rush panic she realized that yes, somewhere in this she had fully leaned back into Jacqueline, and was now resting her head in the crook of Jacqueline’s neck. Her feet were still on the couch but instead of holding her feet, her arms were being gently held against her body by Jacqueline’s arms, and her legs were resting open, relaxed, against the minder’s.

Some part of her wanted to jerk away, but after everything that had happened she was so exhausted she could fall asleep, and in that emotional emptiness the needed anger didn’t come.

Something about Jacqueline’s steady, calm persistence had unwound her, and with the help of those careful, deliberate touches, Jacqueline had pulled her back open. Now she was in the older girl’s lap, wrapped in her embrace.

She felt suddenly vulnerable. Without the anger to protect her there was only one available source of comfort: Without really thinking about it, she turned around and pulled herself against Jacqueline, who permitted it and stroked a hand down Claire’s back.

Jacqueline’s hand disappeared for just a moment, then Kacie joined them on the couch. The older servant cuddled into Claire from the other side.

They stayed that way for a while, and Claire felt herself slowly come back to her body.

Eventually, Jacqueline pulled them apart and ran a gentle hand down Claire’s cheek.

“So,” she spoke softly, “we still have some infractions to redeem you for.”

Claire tensed a little again, then took a deep breath. It was intimidating, but the idea didn’t have the all consuming horror it did half an hour ago. She was just out of emotional capacity to feel terrified.

“I think what you need right now is compassion and intimacy, which is why I’m going to suggest a bare handed spanking. It won’t be against the wall, and both Kacie and I will be with you the whole time. We’ll go gentle, enough to consider you forgiven, but not so much you can’t take it. How does that sound?”

Claire didn’t have anything left, she just nodded. Moments later, Jacqueline untangled herself from Claire, and with a gentle yet firm hand Claire was guided over Jacqueline’s knees. Kacie adjusted herself as well, and moments later Claire felt her warm and steadfast presence in front of her. Kacie took Claire’s hands into her own and leaned her forehead against Claire’s.

Claire still only wore the bicycle shorts from the ballet class, and fortunately Jacqueline didn’t make her take those off. Instead, she began spanking Claire.

It felt different from the crop, less sharp. The pants probably made a difference as well.

Each but more like it was going through her posterior and reaching her somewhere deep inside.

Jacqueline alternated, first spanking one ass cheek then the other, hard enough that Claire felt it but not so hard that Claire couldn’t handle the pain.

The pain started to build, and Claire wasn’t sure if she’d be able to go on. She must have gotten at least ten hits by now, but Jacqueline had suggested earlier that a caning could go up to fifty.

Kacie squeezed Claire’s hands from the front, as if to transfer the freshman some of her own strength. It helped a little, and Claire hung on.

“Relax. Just relax,” Kacie whispered.

The blows kept coming. Claire tried relaxing, even managed to do it for one or two blows, but it was too much.

Kacie didn’t give up. “Imagine you’re giving the pain a hug.”

That visual helped somehow. She embraced it, dove into it instead of ran away from it, and suddenly she was on the other side, limp, as the blows kept coming but stopped overwhelming her.

They still hurt. They were still painful. But suddenly she could ‘keep up’ with it somehow, like the pain was flowing through her instead of building up.

Kacie smiled at her.

A few moments later Jacqueline’s hand slowed, and began rubbing instead.

“You’re a good girl, Claire,” Jacqueline said above her, “and you’re forgiven.”

Somehow, she did feel a little better. She hadn’t wanted to be late, didn’t like the idea that she was a bad student, even if the way others treated what was happening so easily still confused her.

They stayed that way for a while, Jacqueline running small circles over her back as Claire slowly came back into her body.

Jacqueline pet her head, and helped her slide off her lap onto the floor. “You were going through some kind of trauma response earlier so it was fine then, but now that you’re coming back to yourself, I’m going to ask you to start calling me ma’am, and Kacie miss. And you should thank me for the punishment.”

Claire struggled to find her voice again. “Th– Thank you, ma’am.” She felt dazed somehow.

“Lastly, I’d like to apologize to you,” Jacqueline added, “we had a bit of an incident back at the main house, so we flipped the schedule around a little, and in retrospect that probably wasn’t the best idea. We’re supposed to do some introductory stuff now that should have happened this morning, but why don’t you spend some time relaxing with Kacie in one of the rooms, and we’ll get back to you later?”

Claire just nodded, feeling somehow meek. “Yes ma’am, and thank you for spending time with me, miss.”

Kacie just smiled at her, grabbed her by the hand, and lead her out the door.

They went around a bend in the hall, to a door at the end.

“Lets grab this one,” Kacie said, and lead Claire into a small space dominated by a bay window overlooking the yard, with a beautiful day bed set within. The walls were made almost entirely of bookshelves, in a light light brown oak. A pastel rug in blood orange anchored the jumble of book backs and the light blue curtains and made the space feel somehow cohesive.

Kacie dragged her to the day bed.

“We’ll cuddle for a while,” Kacie said, “and then you can tell me more about yourself properly.”

The day bed had half a dozen pillows and at least two blankets on it, and looked absolutely fantastic to Claire right about now.

“That sounds great, miss,” Claire said, surprised with how little she minded her own sheepish tone. She felt cleaner now, for having gotten everything out, and some part of her that she couldn’t quite understand had decided that showing that vulnerability, that submission, to at the very least Kacie and Jacqueline, was something she could do here.

So she let herself be dragged to the bed, encased in her VPs arms, and put slowly back together.